


Life Goes On

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-22
Updated: 2006-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-15 23:20:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8076817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Cutler is pregnant.





	1. Revelation

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: Disclaimer: Paramount owns Enterprise and everything connected with it, except Tia Anlor (Tee-ah' Ahn'-lor), who belongs to me and I'm not sharing. (G)  
  
This is the 23rd story in this series.  
  
This story takes place about a month after 'Cross and Crown', two weeks after 'Clara' and a week after "Humiliatum". Later stories will include 'Sufferance', 'The Court Martial of Hoshi Sato', 'Empress Sato', 'Extreme Prejudice' and 'Fractured'.  
  
Adult topics.  
  
N.B.: Chapter 7 concludes with the scene of how 'Star Trek: Enterprise' _should have_ concluded its run, and _would have_ if I had been producing it! You'll know it when you see it!  
  
Of course, it is not the end, so long as there are stories to be written!  
  
"Life is. And we must take it _as_ it is."  


* * *

Hoshi Sato hurries into the Mess Hall, extremely embarrassed to have overslept. It is true that crewmen do not have to punch a clock, yet they are expected to arrive for their shifts on time, and this morning the bed had felt too good to abandon. She had looked at the chronometer, seeing she had nearly an hour before she had to be dressed and out of her quarters in time for breakfast; and the next time she had looked she had five minutes!

She'd thrown off her bedclothes, leaving them where they landed as she hurried into her shower, scrubbing frantically under the heavy jet of water, drying herself as quickly as she could and pulling on underwear and a fresh uniform, but she bites back a curse when she sees she is still five minutes late.

When she arrives for breakfast, most of the Alpha Shift crew are either finishing or have already departed. She forcibly brings herself to a stop, glancing at the chronometer. Her mad rush has made up some time; she has about fifteen minutes before she has to report to the Bridge.

Elizabeth Cutler is still at their usual table, though their other usual companion Tia Anlor has already departed for her shift in Life Sciences. When Hoshi selects sausages, eggs and orange juice from the buffet table and sits down, the woman is staring so hard at her meal she barely realizes Hoshi has arrived. "Sorry I'm late. I overslept."

"Sure." Liz says distantly, not looking up. Hoshi glances at her, struck by the melancholy tone in her friend's voice, but Liz does not look at her, continuing to stare at her plate. As Hoshi begins hurrying through breakfast, Cutler finally focuses on her.

"Don't cram it all in. You're going to choke."

"Sorry." She says, taking a drink of juice. "I told you I was late."

"Late!" Liz exclaims, scoffing at her, her voice surprisingly high. "You don't _know_ what it is to be late! You're a Linguist!"

Hoshi pauses, as much surprised at the insensible connection as at the real anger in the unexpected put-down. "Huh?"

"I said you're a Linguist! I'm a _Biologist_! I _know_ what it is to be late!" Hoshi glances at the chronometer on the wall, wondering what has made her friend lash out at her so bitterly. The chronometer reads 0748.

"All right." She answers with a smile, unable to see the cause of the woman's growing anger but trying to defuse it. "I've got twelve minutes before I'm declared 'missing' and Lt. Reed sends out search parties." She takes a bite of her eggs. "How late are you?"

"Five days." Hoshi stops dead at her friend's doomed whisper, mouth half full, eyes locked on Liz's, totally silent. In that brief, silent exchange, Hoshi knows all she has to. A few moments later she remembers to chew, but it is not until after she has a drink of juice that she trusts herself to speak.

"Excuse me? Did you just say--?"

"Five _days_!" Cutler repeats with an emphasis born of anguish and dread. "And I'm as regular as a cesium chronometer!"

Hoshi stares at her friend, not knowing what to say. Her natural reaction is to exclaim 'Congratulations!' and hug her, but Liz does not seem at all in the mood for congratulations; and if there is any hugging to be done it is probably not going to be celebratory. So she forces her own response down, and asks the question her friend's mood seems to invite. "If you're sure, does Jim know?"

Liz shakes her head dismally. "And I'm not _sure_. I'm just...pretty sure."

"Well, what does Phlox say?"

Again her friend shakes her head. "I've been too scared to go." Her voice quivers despite her best efforts to control it. "I don't--I don't _want_ to know!"

Hoshi, surprised at this reaction from her normally well secured friend, looks pointedly toward the woman's abdomen before again meeting her eyes.

"You're going to find out."

* * *

Liz closes her eyes, her hands covering her face, and a few moments later her shoulders start to shake. Hoshi is astounded! She's known Elizabeth Cutler to deal with all sorts of calamities aboard this ship and barely bat an eyelash. But that slight motion is the only indication her friend gives that she is crying.

Hoshi glances about them, but no one seems to have noticed. She picks up a napkin, pressing it to her friend's hands. "Come on. Dry your eyes; put on a brave smile and we'll both walk out of here like we don't have a care in the world."

"Then what?" Liz's soft voice is muffled by both her hands and her misery.

"We see Phlox and get a definite 'yes' or 'no'. And then we'll deal with things."

* * *

Elizabeth Cutler sits on the edge of the biobed, her hands gripping the side so tightly her knuckles are white. Hoshi Sato stands as close to her friend as Phlox will allow, trying to offer support by her silent presence. She has already called to the Bridge and Life Sciences, giving explanations as vague as she could dare for their lateness. Fortunately the Enterprise officers do not 'punch a clock'. The binary star system they had arrived at four days ago had not yielded the anticipated 'Minshara Class' planet, so there had been no surface exploration. They had been so long out from any planet-fall that there is very little pressing work waiting for her companion.

When they'd entered the Sick Bay, Phlox had been standing beside the bed of Andrea Carstairs, carefully observing several readouts displayed over the woman. She was thoroughly asleep, sedated and still suffering the effects of her attempted suicide.

The two women wonder if she would ever recover. The stab wound to her chest had been deep, piercing a lung, but she was no longer in critical condition, no longer on the verge of death.

But the inner wound to her soul that had led to her attempt to take her own life was deeper by far, and could well prove to be fatal to her spirit unless she could get the proper treatment. They knew it would take the combined efforts of Phlox and Rev. McCabe as well as those of her friends if the woman was going to have a chance to recover her life as it had been.

So the pair spoke quietly to Phlox after he had drawn a curtain about the sleeping woman's bed, bringing him news of their own distress.

* * *

Now Liz sits stiffly, clutching the edge of the biobed, her breath coming in erratically controlled gasps, her manner more suited to an execution than a medical examination. Even the normally jovial Denobulan's manner is subdued by her overwhelming apprehension.

Finally Phlox puts down the biomolecular scanner, wishing the woman would simply relax. "Well, Ensign;" he begins with a cautious though hopefully reassuring smile, "judging by your tension, I'm not sure if you'll regard this as good or bad news, but it is definite.

"You are pregnant."

Liz pulls her white hands away from the edge of the bed in time to press them to her face as she starts to sob.

* * *

Phlox and Hoshi look at each other, neither sure how to deal with this unexpected reaction. The last time he had made such an announcement had been over a year ago, to Trip Tucker after the man's encounter with the Xyrillian Engineer Ah'Len, and he had taken the stunning news far better.

Hoshi holds up her hands helplessly. They look at the woman, who is crying even harder. Finally Phlox looks at Hoshi with a definite message in his eyes: 'You're a woman, you're human; you deal with this.' He backs away, letting her take 'point'.

'Thanks.' She thinks with little compassion.

Not knowing what else to do, she steps up to Liz and puts her arms about her. The crying woman puts her own arms about her friend, buries her face on Hoshi's shoulder and sobs loudly; giving vent to a flood of tears that she had been holding back for nearly a week. Hoshi holds her, patting and stroking her back as violent sobs wrack the woman's body, and hopes she is doing enough.

* * *

Inevitably, though it takes many minutes of violently cathartic release, Liz reaches the point where she simply can not cry any more. With Hoshi's help she pushes herself upright, her body trembling and weak, her eyes red.

"Ready to talk?" Hoshi asks quietly.

Liz shakes her head. "Ready to _die_!"

Hoshi frowns. "As you sometimes so eloquently say; 'Bull! Shit!' Now you _talk_ to me!" Her anger at her friend's broken condition surprises even herself; and she tries to force it down. "Now what's _wrong_?"

The woman cannot meet her eyes, hanging her head miserably. "No marriage; can't stay out here with a baby; not ready for a child; not ready to give up a career; don't want to leave Starfleet or Enterprise; scared as hell; don't know what he'll say; never been pregnant before; never expected this; thought I was still protected when it...happened. Pick any of them, they're all there!"

Hoshi takes her shoulders, her quiet patience forcing Liz to meet her eyes. "You hang in there! We're going to get through this!"

Liz holds her eyes for a few seconds; then nods weakly. Hoshi helps her off the bed, supporting her as they start toward the door.

* * *

But before they reach the door Liz stops, turning to the watching Phlox. " _Abort it_!"

"What?!" Hoshi exclaims.

"I will _not_!" Phlox retorts, outraged.

"Why? It's my body, and I should _not_ be pregnant!" Liz cries.

Phlox holds up his hand, silencing everyone. He waits until the anger in the room dissipates. It is nearly half a minute before he answers. "In a case where neither the mother nor embryo is in medical distress, there are two circumstances where I will not even discuss aborting a pregnancy--and both of them apply here. I will not entertain the subject unless both parents are in agreement, neither will I when the mother is hysterical."

Liz starts toward Phlox, but Hoshi restrains her. She shakes her friend's hand off her arm, but holds her ground. "I - am - _not_ \- hysterical!"

"Neither are you thinking clearly. Go back to your quarters; you're relieved of duty. I'll inform Lt. Abrams, but I won't tell him why. Come back this evening; with or without Ensign Cein, but preferably with. In any event, don't come back before you have calmed down."

* * *

Liz is furious; so angry that she cannot even prevent herself from being turned toward the door and escorted out of the room.


	2. Tough Love

"Thank you, Captain." Hoshi says, turning off the intercom and sitting down on Liz's desk chair. "I've got the morning off." She tells her friend unnecessarily. The Biologist had heard every word she'd said from where she sat on the edge of her bunk.

"You don't need to stay." Liz protests, though not very convincingly. "I don't need a keeper."

"No, you don't. If I thought you needed a 'keeper', I'd have you in restraints."

Liz laughs ruefully. " _That's_ what got me into this mess!"

"Huh?"

"Your own darned fault; suggesting it to Tia a couple of months ago!"

"Again: _Huh_?"

"You remember, round about that time we found out about that 'Daasii' thing."

"Oh, yeah." Hoshi smiles, remembering the outlandish discussion in the Mess Hall, and the nearly calamitous denouement. How Trip Tucker had ever lived it down she never knew. "Seamus had tied me spread out on my bed that previous evening and spent the night having his way with me." She smiled at the recollection. "And when I told you and Tia she wanted to try it, to see if she would like it, but she was scared to raise the subject to Commander Tucker."

"Yeah. 'A woman does ask a man for pleasure not'." She quoted the naÃ¯ve young Auran. "We sure cured her of that."

"I don't know about that. But anyway, we told her if she wants to try something new she should just go to him and ask for it."

"We didn't expect her to do it in a packed Mess Hall!" Liz laughed.

"I'd never seen a man go so white so fast." Hoshi exclaimed, unable to fight her own mirth at the memory.

"And then from white to purple. I thought he was going to have a coronary! I thought I'd have to perform CPR right there."

"But it all worked out well in the end." Hoshi said. "Though I wonder, did he ever wind up tying her up?"

"Darned if I know! 'Women do sex discuss with one another not', remember?"

"Yeah, right. That was a yolk I think she was glad to free herself of, with a bit of help."

"She's come a long way, with us pushing her. Though I wonder sometimes if another Auran would recognize the new, open Tia. Or if we did her a favor by influencing her with our earthly ways."

"I don't know. I just wanted to help her get to Commander Tucker like she wanted."

"But it got me thinking about it." Liz continues, abandoning the happy memory. "Then came the day when Jim was totally stressed out, and I went to visit him. There was no bondage, but Jim 'arrested' me a couple of weeks ago, during the Pineda/McCabe investigation."

Light dawns. "Did a strip search and a body cavity probe, I'm sure."

Liz smiles at the memory. "Kind of."

"Well, looks like we've found where the contraband was planted."

* * *

Suddenly, the good times vanish as if a switch has been thrown, and the smile falls from Liz's face. It is as if for those moments she has forgotten her problems, and then suddenly they descend upon her with brutal force. She puts her face in her hands. "What am I going to _do_?" She asks in a tremulous, desperate voice.

"My vote is for telling him." Liz looks up at her, her expression grim and haunted. "I'm not changing my vote." She again buries her face in her hands, her manner one of complete hopelessness.

"I know." Her voice breaks. "But I'm _scared_!"

This is something that Hoshi, knowing the man as she thought she did, was not expecting. She stands up, stepping closer to her friend, her voice turning deadly.

"Liz, I've a black belt in Aikido. If you tell me there's a reason for you to be afraid of Jim, I'll break both his arms and make him eat them!"

Liz shakes her head, her face still buried hopelessly in her hands. "It's not like that. But he's not ready for a child either."

"He said so?" She shakes her head again. "Then how do you know?" Again that hopeless shake. "Liz, look at me. Talk to me."

"It's hopeless. I _can't_ do this." She insists, her voice muffled, starting to shake with her emotion. "I'm _scared._ I _cannot_ have this child. _We_ cannot have this child." She starts to cry. "I _should_ abort it."

"Liz -."

"No!" She exclaims brokenly into her covering hands. " _I'm going to abort it_!"

"Liz."

" _No_! I'm _going_ to _abort_ it!"

* * *

"Liz," Hoshi says firmly, compellingly, standing over her, "I want you to dry your eyes and look at me."

Liz Cutler gives a trembling sigh, trying to pull herself back together, to not give in to the tears. She rubs her eyes clear and lowers her hands, looking up.

* * *

Hoshi's hand _cracks_ against her cheek so hard she is almost knocked off the bed onto the floor had the enraged Linguist not grabbed her shoulders, keeping her upright, her grip so tight her nails are digging into the startled woman's flesh. Liz stares up at her friend, so astonished she does not even register yet how much the slap hurts.

"Now you _listen_ to me!" Hoshi demands furiously, her eyes blazing. "We're friends and we are going to get _through_ this. I'll run interference with Jim if you want. I'll use what influence I have with the Captain to keep your berth on Enterprise if that's what you want. I'll hold your hand while you're in labor and I'll help you change diapers and spot you for 0200 feedings but I will _damned_ _never_ hear that word out of your mouth again!

"How _dare_ you? You are so focused on what a 'tragedy' this is that you are completely missing what a _beautiful_ thing it is. What a blessing! This is a _life_ inside you! This is what every woman _dreams_ of from the days when she's a little girl playing 'dress-up' with her mother's high heeled shoes. There are half a dozen women on this ship that would love to be in your shoes right now. I know one woman on this ship who _can't_ _ever_ _have kids_! She'd trade both her arms and both legs to have what you have and would throw away.

"Now I know you're in shock. This is a lot to take in and I know you're scared--so that's why I just used my hand and didn't loosen one of your teeth. But if you _ever_ give in to that plan I will make sure that from that day on you eat all your meals with a straw!"

Liz stares up at her furious friend, hand pressing lightly to her stinging cheek, her ear ringing from the force of the blow. "I never thought I'd see the day that 'meek, timid Hoshi' would come out and belt me."

Hoshi smiles ruefully. "It took you getting me pretty mad. But as you said about Tia a couple of weeks ago, 'tough love; sometimes it's the only way'."


	3. Revelations

Elizabeth Cutler carefully inspects the small table set up in her quarters, checking the placement of the two plates on either side of the covered tureen she had borrowed from Chef. The glasses are perfectly placed, napkins, forks, knives...She shakes her head, wondering how neurotic she can become.

She had decided to tell Jim Cein about her pregnancy over dinner. However, since there are no cooking facilities in crew quarters, to say nothing of regulations about open fires, she had appealed to the Chef for something really special. He is aware enough of the interests and likes of the 'charges' under his care to suggest what he knows to be Jim's favorite meal.

She had called him by intercom minutes before, just after the end of Alpha shift, inviting him to her quarters but telling him nothing of the reason. She had already changed out of her uniform into a short pink dress she knows he likes, mostly because the cleavage leaves nothing at all to the imagination.

But when the annunciation signal sounds at the door she jumps slightly, realizing her nerves are still frayed. Taking a deep breath, steeling herself, she steps to the door and presses the button. She is still holding the breath as the door slides aside, and when she lets it out slowly it is to a long, drawn greeting. "Hiiiii."

Looking up into the uniformed man's eyes, seeing that his gaze is considerably below the level of her own eyes, she gives thanks that the dress has done its job.

"Would you like to come...in?" She whispers, the offering and suggestion as broad as can possibly be made.

"I'd love to." He tells her, stepping in and taking her in his arms. She molds her body to his as they kiss.

* * *

A few minutes later she has to come up for air, pushing him away slightly. She does not really want to, but it is this kind of 'greeting' that had led to her present problem.

"I have dinner for us."

"So I see." He says appreciatively, looking past her at the covered dish set between two burning white candles.

"I thought we'd eat 'in' tonight. I have something really special." The taller man regards her with a knowing smile. "What is it?"

"Well, Beth honey, it's just that when it comes to food, didn't you describe yourself as a 'practicing catastrophist'?"

She gives him a wry look, patting his chest. "Honey; Dating 101. When your girl tells you she has dinner for you; you smile, sit down and eat it."

He smiles. "Yes, ma'am." He sits down, removing the lid from the cover of the plate. He is delighted to see that it is his favorite. She takes a seat opposite him at the small table as he spoons out a generous helping.

* * *

"So, how was your day?" She asks, trying to overcome her nervousness in small talk.

"Pretty routine, actually. You know how it is in Security. When we're not dealing with Klingons, Tellarites, Andorians and the like, to say nothing of Suliban, we can go through a shift pretty much trying to avoid napping. How was yours?"

She takes a deep breath, preparatory to plunging in, knowing if she thought about it she would be too nervous to answer.

"Oh, it was interesting. I had breakfast with Hoshi of course, as we usually do--Tia was already gone. Then I went to Sick Bay to see Phlox, found out I'm pregnant, got relieved of duty, came back here with Hoshi and had a nervous breakdown and a crying jag like you wouldn't believe! We talked for a long time, but then after she left I couldn't sit still any longer so I went down to the Lab, got myself restored and then did some specimen follow-up work on the spore samples from Alpha Kirini VI. There were some mitosis shifts to be analyzed. It's unusual to see such variations at that stage of development; usually it happens in later stages of the life cycle. They are actually similar to the spores we found on Berengaria VII..." She trails off, seeing the way he is staring at her, a full fork stopped an inch from his lips.

"Can you say that again?"

"I doubt it. Which part?"

"Just the 'pregnant' part."

She swallows apprehensively, knowing this time she isn't doing to get through it as easily. It takes a long moment before she can say the words. "I'm pregnant."

"How?"

She shrugs. "Pretty much the usual way."

He puts down the fork, his appetite forgotten; searching for a question that could get him the kind of answer he is looking for, realizing he is as shaken as she seems to be. "No, I mean...when did it happen?"

"Near as I can figure, when you 'arrested' me." She can see in his eyes that he remembers the occasion quite vividly. She had come to his quarters to relieve his tension, and her own, during the investigation into the 'murder' of Fr. George Pineda. Clearly they had accomplished far more.

For a long moment he is silent. Then another longer moment. Then:

"Could you please say something?" Liz implores; her own nerves taut.

A longer moment still, then he shakes his head slowly.

"I doubt it."

* * *

After dinner, one she is not sure either of them really tastes, Jim can endure it no longer and urges that they go immediately to Sick Bay. Liz is not happy with the 'immediate' part, but realizes he is as shaken as she had been. Not willing to go in the revealing dress she wears, she resumes her uniform before they leave her quarters.

* * *

About half an hour later, in the Sick Bay, Liz has just come out of the Imaging Chamber, and they all look at a magnified spectral image on the monitor. At first, without the artificial color imparted by the computer, Jim would have had a hard time picking it out. Even magnified, it is only 5 millimeters long, and the rudiments of eyes and ears can barely be discerned, with the computer's help, on the opposite end from the tail. "That's it?"

"That's it. It's about 29 days old."

"Doesn't look anything like...well..."

Phlox smiles broadly. "Give it time, Ensign. Give it time."

"Little Michael." Liz says dreamily, her hands on her abdomen. She looks up, catching Jim's expression. "Or Michelle. I'm flexible."

"Michael's my father's name." He says proudly.

"I know. And Michelle's my mother's, so we're covered." They look at the image on the viewer.

"All right. Michael or Michelle it is." He looks at Phlox. "Doctor, can you..."

The Denobulan held up his hand. "Come back in a couple of weeks, if you decide you _really_ want to know."

"Okay." Jim says, really wanting to sit down instead!

He stares at the computer enhanced image on the large monitor, trying his best to take everything in. The embryo is inside Beth Cutler. He had 'put' it there almost a month ago when they had come together seeking relief from a particularly stressful situation. That large image was the tiny thing inside her. He had put it there. It was growing inside her--and in months it would be a baby. A small baby. Then not so small. Then...It was inside her, they were joined together, the two of them, the three of them, because...It was inside her, growing. It was going to be his son. Their son. His son. Their...

"Jim, honey? Are you okay?" He hears her voice, as if from a great distance. He looks at her, seeing the concern in her eyes, but then he looks down at her stomach, slightly lower, and it is like he can see...

"Beth, I really have to sit down!" He breathes. With Phlox steadying him by one arm and Liz by the other, he makes it to a chair. But when he sits down, feeling a cool sheen of perspiration on his head, he reaches out and pulls Liz closer, leaning his head against her abdomen, her uniform drying his cool forehead. He leans against her as she puts her arms about him, holding him. It finally comes through to him that he is resting just inches from...

"This is all real, isn't it?"

"Yes, honey."

"Very real, Ensign." Phlox confirms expansively. Jim can see nothing but her uniform an inch from his eyes, but if he looked up past her he would see that image frozen on the monitor behind her. He puts one hand on her body, as close to where he can guess the embryo is. Faintly embarrassed and never for an instant ready to admit that he is not completely, entirely sure, he places his hand there.

"Hello, Michael." He whispers softly, finally starting to believe it. "Or Michelle."

Liz, her arms about him as she holds him close to her, hears his soft whisper and holds him closer, looking back behind her at the frozen image.

Only Phlox sees her brush aside a tear.

* * *

A few minutes later they are ready to leave, but Liz hangs back, telling Jim she has some last few pre-natal questions for Phlox. He agrees to meet her later for the last of their aborted meal. She kisses him softly; then pushes the button controlling the door, letting him out. When she is alone, standing by the door, she turns back to Phlox. "Now Doctor, you and I both know those instruments can..."

"A couple of _weeks_ , Ensign." Phlox 'insists'.

"Doc- _tor_."

He looks at her with an almost indulgent smile. "Michael."

She smiles, looking at the image still displayed on the Imaging Chamber's monitor, and puts a hand to her abdomen; looking from the image down to herself. "Michael."

* * *

"So, have you made your decision?" She stops, realizing what he is really asking her.

"What do you mean?" Though she has no doubt what is on his mind, she still feels she has to ask, if only to have the few seconds it would grant to her to think.

"When you left here, you were determined to abort the embryo. I was wondering if now you have changed your mind, as you appear to have. If you really are as certain as you seem, or only seem to be so."

"You know me too well."

"We've been friends a long time." He 'reminds' her.

"Well, Phlox..." She steps back into the room but does not approach him, running her fingers along several surfaces as she walks, skirting the room and drawing no nearer to him before admitting; "I don't know." She finally works up the courage to look him in the face, but his expression only makes things worse. " _I Don't Know_!" She cries; surprised at her own vehemence before she manages to tone down the frustrated emotions that threaten to run wild. "Hoshi won't even let me consider it, much less talk about it. But I _need_ to talk. Jim wants the baby, or at least he seems to--now--but I don't _know_. I asked you all to keep this a secret until I'm ready to talk, but I want to talk about it, and I can't find anyone I can talk to!"

"I'm here." He offers.

"Someone _human_!" She stops herself, realizing how insulting it sounds. She is throwing back her friend's offer right into his face. She also remembers that this is a man she had come, in some way, to love; and that for some time she had held real hopes of a relationship.

That had not happened, but it was that love that had actually led to her unexpected relationship with Jim Cein the day the Security Officer had come to her door, responding to an emergency call, when she had been expecting Phlox. But none of that had changed the real friendship she and the Denobulan had, and the depth to which it had grown even since the day she had found Jim Cein at her door.

And now she had thrown his offer to help back in his face. "I'm _sorry_."

"Think nothing of it." But it is not the easy dismissal he would have it be when the hurt in his eyes tells his real feelings.

"But I do think of it. You're my friend, and I shouldn't have _said_ that. It's just that this thing has me so crazy. I'm _scared_. I don't know which way to turn, and I'm taking it out on you. I am so _sorry_!"

"I'm not offended. I appreciate what you're going through. It's a shock that is going to change the course of the rest of your life, and the lives of others, and you have had less than ten hours to deal with it.

"But your idea is sound. You should talk with a human. What about Reverend McCabe?"

"What would she know? She's a Priest." Even to her ears, the protest sounds hollow. In fact, it sounds silly.

"Last time I noticed, she is a human woman who, among other things, is trained in psychology. And you know she has a viewpoint on having a relationship with a serving Officer of Starfleet." He said, reminding her of the woman's almost life-long attachment to Malcolm Reed. The pair had been engaged to be married before he'd joined Starfleet and she had entered the Seminary. "Even all that aside, she is new enough to be impartial; and I understand her profession often calls for strict confidentiality."

"You're right, of course." She shook her head, tapping it with her hand, feeling she should really rap it instead to get her brain working again but not wanting him to think she was _completely_ nuts. "I should have thought of all this myself."

"If not for the extraordinary stresses you are under, I am sure you would have."

"Just shows how scrambled my brain is right now. I'll talk to her." She starts to leave, but instead steps up to him quickly, giving him a kiss on his cheek before he can pull away. "Thank you, Phlox!" She says, hurrying away.

He does not reprimand her for her unexpected touch, though she knows how Denobulans feel about such physical contact. In fact, now his smile is considerably more genuine.


	4. Celebrate Refnali

The next evening, after dinner, Elizabeth Cutler sits in her room, staring at the blank monitor screen before her on her desk, trying to compose her thoughts enough to put them into words in her Personal Log. She has no idea what to say. Even this method of clearing her mind and putting her jumbled thoughts into order is not working and she restrains herself from striking the screen in frustration.

She is miserable. Her best efforts at coming to terms with what is happening to her meet with failure at every turn. During the day she has spoken to several of her most trusted friends; not surprisingly most of them are in Life Sciences. Each of them had advice, some of it really good, and none of it making her feel any better.

She reaches out, touching the 'record' button on the monitor. Computer, record personal log." At the answering 'beep', she begins. "Personal Log, supplemental." She stops, annoyed with herself at the formality of the words. These are, after all, her private thoughts. "Oh, hell, it's three hours later than the last time I tried this, and I'm still no better along.

"I shouldn't have had dinner tonight; it's just sitting like a rock at the pit of my stomach. Last evening I told Jim I was knocked up, today I told several of my friends, and swore them to absolute secrecy. The fact is, they have a lot of advice, and I can't use _any_ of it!" She takes a deep breath, steeling herself.

"I'm going to have an abortion."

* * *

The words hang in the air between her lips and the monitor, and seem to gather themselves in an effort to strike back at her.

"I couldn't tell anyone, but I've made up my mind. I cannot have this baby; I cannot do it to Jim, to myself, or to Michael!

"There are plenty of ways of inducing a miscarriage this early in a pregnancy. One of the advantages of being a Biologist is in knowing these kinds of things. Phlox could not even stop it by the time he found out.

"Hoshi might well carry through her threat to knock all my teeth out, but it is actually none of her business. This is between Jim and me, and ultimately just me."

She turns from the monitor, standing up. "Computer--pause." The recorder will pause indefinitely if she so wishes, and right now she cannot sit down. She paces the small room for a long time, so tense she can barely speak, feeling her stomach churning as the realization of what she has just said hits her again and again. Finally she turns back to the computer. "Resume recording."

"I feel like a monster; like a real pile of _crap_!" She tells the machine. "They're right. This is a blessing--but I sure as hell don't _feel_ blessed. I feel like....like...like I'm scared to _death_. I'm drowning in this and no one will throw me a life ring because I cannot _tell_ anyone." She stops, miserable; then speaks directly to the monitor. "The worst thing is that I _want_ this baby! Part of me wants my child--my son. Sometimes I feel like all of me wants him!

"I don't even _want_ to have this abortion--to abort him, but I can't _not_ do it! How can I bring a baby into this galaxy, how can I be a mother, when I am _scared to death_? The very _thought_ of this scares me so much I can't even think!

"I'm not ready. I'm supposed to be married--for _years_ \--before this comes up. But the last thing I can see myself as is as somebody's _wife_! And worse yet, how could I possibly be a _mother_?

"A mother is supposed to want her baby _without reservation_. Mine did. A mother is not supposed to be _scared out of her mind_! So how can I think that I could _possibly_ be a mother?"

* * *

Before she can draw another breath, the annunciation chime at her door sounds. 'For the love of God, just leave me _alone_!' she thinks. "Computer, stop recording."

Seriously considering pretending not to be in, Liz waits until whoever it is rings again before giving up. She just cannot bring herself to be rude to the unexpected--and definitely unwelcome--visitor, no matter who it might be. Crossing the room, she forces a monumentally fake smile onto her lips and presses the 'open' button.

Her false smile transmutes into a real one as she sees who her late evening visitor is. If anyone can provide a distraction from her miseries and an absolutely unique viewpoint, this person can. "Tia!" She exclaims with real pleasure. "Come in."

The young Auran woman enters, the door sliding shut behind her. Not a member of Starfleet, she does not wear a uniform unless part of an 'Away' team. Thus, even 'on duty' in the Life Sciences division, she always wears 'civilian attire', and Liz frequently notices that it is strongly influenced by a particular Chief Engineer. This time she is dressed in a white blouse tied midriff below her breasts, and bright red shorts, the combination a little shocking; particularly when set against her golden skin.

Liz extends her hand in greeting, but the younger woman catches it up, bringing Liz's hand up, briefly touching her lips to Liz's inner wrist in a traditional Auran greeting, a very brief touch of the lips before releasing her. Liz had never tried to copy the gesture, and it had never seemed expected of her to do so.

"Dampris qulara." Tia says in her curiously melodious accent.

"Good evening. What's up?" Liz asks, finding herself relieved and grateful for the company. She sees the Auran's eyes flicker momentarily to the overhead. "I mean," she corrects herself with a grin, "to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

Tia was vastly excited, so happy she could barely find the words. "Heard I you about!" She exclaimed. "To visit wanted. I you to kimintiduun wanted!"

Liz grinned even more broadly, caught up in the Auran's infectious joy. "To _what_?"

"Kimintiduun! To, um, to..." She struggled for the word. "To...cangrintulite you."

Liz tried her best to work this one out. "Congratulate?" She guessed.

"Daai!"

"I'm almost afraid to ask." She really was--as she had sworn everyone she'd spoken with to strict silence. "Who told you?"

"Hoshi." Tia replies as if the answer could not be more obvious.

"Figures." The one person as close as a sister aboard this ship, naturally she had forgotten to exact that promise. She'd have to correct that oversight fast--but later.

"Well, thank you. Come on, sit down." She indicates a spot on the bed, taking one herself. Tia barely sits still on it.

Liz can hardly miss the obvious; that her friend is thrilled. And when the young Auran is thrilled, she is as vastly enthused as she would be with any other emotion. Tia is much more excited than Liz can ever imagine herself being, and Liz can barely bring her friend back down to Earth, or Aura, or whatever.

They sit cross-legged on the bunk facing one another, talking with increasing animation, and it soon crosses Liz's mind that all that this evening is missing is pajamas! She recalls fondly that it has been a long time since her last 'pajama party' on Earth with her girlfriends, but if anything partook of the flavor of it, it would be this.

"On Aura, a time of great celebration this is! Family and friends, all neighbors; vast party it is. For polus, um, _days_ can it last!"

Liz smiles, picturing a several-day-long celebration aboard the ship and making a mental note to make sure the Captain forbids it should their overly enthusiastic friend get that high.

"We generally don't attach that much significance to it."

" _Significance_?" Tia exclaims, her voice shooting up two octaves, so astonished she is virtually rocked back onto the bed. "It the _greatest_ thing on the planet is! Before came the Silurians, sometimes ref--pregnancy a whole _town_ celebrate would. Remember I a story once I heard; _two_ women in Kasran found to be were! The Relatu himself to stop the celebration had. For _five days_ did all work nyasi."

Liz laughs, shaking her head ruefully, easily picturing it aboard the starship. "Oh, Captain Archer would _love_ that. A five day party; screw work."

"Daai!? I him _tell_ will!" Tia is partially off the bed before Liz can reach out desperately, grabbing her.

"Hold on; that's not what I meant!" She pulls Tia back down, having barely caught her in time. "I meant he _wouldn't_ love it." 'I really must teach her about irony', she thinks.

"Oh." Tia hesitates, trying to take this in. "Anston. Confused I get. So scrambled your language is."

Liz cannot help laughing. It is the best laugh she has had in days.

* * *

"So, when your celebration begin will?" Tia asks with undaunted enthusiasm.

"Well, it's called a 'baby shower', and I hadn't really given it any thought. I guess in round about eight months or so." Tia stares at her, shocked, and Liz cannot remember the last time she'd seen such a look of utter astonishment on anyone's face.

" _Eight_ _goslina_?" She exclaims, incredulous.

Liz shrugs. "It's usually just before the baby is born. Girlfriends gather, give gifts of clothing, toys, whatever they think the baby or parents can use."

"What yexni--um, 'appropriate' is?"

Liz waves her off. "Plenty of time to think about that."

"But eight _goslina_?" She can barely comprehend this incredible delay. "How _stand_ it can you?"

Liz shrugs. "You get used to it."

They sit in companionable silence for some moments while Tia digests this. Liz has to admit that she is, quite frankly, grateful for the silence, no matter how brief. Sometimes the Auran's enthusiasm, her joie de vivre, can be a bit overwhelming unless taken in small doses. This is particularly true when it carries others along with it, as it occasionally did. Briefly she wonders how Trip Tucker can manage. Then again, she does not love the young woman.

There is something refreshing, however, about dealing with someone who can become so unreservedly joyous. And then again, sometimes it was equally refreshing to be relieved of it.

* * *

"What like refnali being is?" Tia asks a few moments later.

Liz shrugs. "I have no idea." She admits after descrambling the question. "What's--oh! Pregnant."

"Daai."

She shrugs again. "I still have no idea. I don't _feel_ any different. The only way I found out was that I was late on my period, which I never am. You can set any clock on the ship by my cycle. I won't even start having morning sickness for a little while, and I can do without that for as long as possible, thank you very much."

" _Sick_ you become?" Tia asks, confused. "But _why_?" She had never imagined such a thing.

Liz smiles at her Auran friend. "You know, Tia, sometimes I envy you."

"Do nyasi. Envy _you_ I do!"

Liz laughs. "You'll get there some day." The look Tia gives her is unfathomable.

"But..." Tia is clearly searching for the words, biting her lip in concentration. "When refnali a human woman is, _feel_ she does it not?"

"Kind of, I guess. For every woman it's different. My mother swears it was the _worst_ nine months of her life. My aunt Beth, mom's sister, says she barely noticed a difference for three months, and didn't mind it at all. She went through labor like dropping off a package. Dad says mom's screams peeled the paint off the Delivery Room walls! It's all 'relative'." She smiles softly at the bad pun.

"Did you..." Tia knows she is not getting through to her friend, and decides to try a different track. "Auran women when conceive, know it they do. Sense the life they can."

"Well, that's convenient I guess. But you're a Biologist, you know all about this."

"Nyas. Study human pregnancy have I nyasi. And refnali I have been ailu, um, 'never'."

Liz shrugs, smiling indulgently at her friend. "Well, you're only nineteen, or twenty-two Earth, or whatever. You've plenty of time to think of a family."

Tia shakes her head, but her face reflects a barely contained sadness, and her enthusiasm vanishes as if turned off with a switch. "Nyas. Refnali Li edu misa _ailu_."

"Pardon?" Tia gives a slight start, realizing she'd spoken in Auran, losing her concentration for translating her thoughts in the depth of her feelings.

"'Pregnant I be can _never'_."

* * *

Liz forces herself to freeze her expression, lest her thoughts betray her, but she feels a chill flow through her body as she sees the barely contained sadness on her friend's face. Hoshi's angry words from yesterday morning come back to her with brutal force. 'I know one woman on this ship who _can't_ _ever_ _have kids_! She'd trade both her arms and both legs to have what you have and would throw away!'

She is vastly relieved she'd never shared her thought of aborting the embryo!

"Damn, I'm sorry. I didn't realize." Liz curses herself for her thoughtlessness. Tia shakes her head, waving it off.

"Nyas. Vas nyasura sei." She tries to pass it off, but her voice cracks.

"If it's nothing, why do you keep losing your English?"

Tia shakes her head, getting up off the bunk. "Anston li eda--um, 'sorry I am'. Intruded I should have nyasi." But Liz grabs her hand, preventing her from getting away, uncrossing her own legs and standing up. She makes Tia turn to look at her.

"Look, I'm sorry. I was incredibly dense. I didn't think. But don't go; we were having such a good time."

"Daai." But then she brightens again, as is her way; she can never stay depressed for long. Or is she using the joy to shove away the sadness? Liz is not sure. " _Celebration_ we still plan must!"

"Nix." She tries to wave it off. "That's not our way. Besides..." She is about to say that she does not want anyone to know yet, beyond the few that had already learned, but it is like trying to halt a deluge with one upraised hand.

"Know I do. But _special_ this is. Refnali you are and thing there is better a woman for not!"

"I beg your pardon?" Liz says dangerously, her smile disintegrating. Tia stops, realizing her mistake.

"Um, anston, your language flibs in I sometimes make. Meant I 'thing there is for a woman better not'."

"That's better!" But then she reconsiders. "I think." She isn't quite sure. 'Where are you, Hoshi?' She thinks longingly. "I thought for a moment that you were becoming sexist."

Tia blinks, momentarily derailed. As happens sometimes, when her thoughts are derailed it is plainly evident, as it is now in her bewildered expression. She can at times be so thoroughly flummoxed that she can not return to her previous thoughts until the confusion is resolved.

Liz takes a deep breath, relieved.

Tia looks at her friend for a moment, then away, trying to resolve something; then back and away again, confusion mounting. Liz thinks to help, but decides she needs the valuable breathing moments. "Is that Shar-les...says...sometimes." She says uncertainly, struggling with the concept in a roil of confusion.

"That you're sexist?"

"I think...I..." She seems to be drowning in confusion. "Says he I 'sexiest woman he ever knew' am. But your tone it _bad_ sound makes."

Liz laughs. "It's not the same thing--not at all. 'Sexiest' is a good thing, a compliment. He likes you. You turn him on."

"Turn him on?" Liz can see in the young woman's expression that she definitely does not get it. Sometimes colloquial or slang expressions, because they were so local even on Earth, were the hardest things for her to comprehend.

"Oh, no; I'm not getting into _that_!" She says emphatically. "'Sexist', well, that's _not_ a good thing. To say someone is 'sexist' is not a compliment." She can see from Tia's bemused expression, and her clear struggle to work it out, that she is just not getting through. "'Sexist' means when one sex thinks it's above another."

"But many times Shar-les above me is, and sometimes he below likes to be. Occasionally one and then the other and then around or back and then...Is that 'sexist'?"

Liz grins. "No, that's calisthenics."

She barely manages to keep from bursting into laughter as Tia's befuddlement climaxes.

* * *

Shortly thereafter, when Tia is gone, Liz finds she is feeling a little guilty about teasing her friend. It is so easy to befuddle the young woman that sometimes it is just too tempting, though she knows it is also unfair. However, much as she might enjoy it, she always managed to resolve any confusion before the discussion was over.

But this evening her mind is on Jim Cein, and the unexpected 'gift' he has given her. Hindsight is a wonderful thing; it shows them just where two educated and resourceful adults had fallen on their asses. Of course, she also remembers that that part of her anatomy had played a part in that afternoon's activities, but at least it had not led to her present condition.

And that convoluted thought is enough to convince Liz that she really _needs_ to talk to a human friend. She wants to try to put some of this into perspective before she faces the inevitable: a meeting with Captain Jonathan Archer.

"Computer, resume Personal Log." The machine 'beeps' in acknowledgement. "Tia just paid me a visit, and it kind of almost made things clear to me--except that now I _really_ don't know what to do!"

* * *

Ensigns Travis Mayweather and Jennifer Farber are walking down the corridor on their way to the regular Tuesday movie night in the Mess Hall when they slow, finding an unusual sight before them. Tia Anlor is standing in the middle of the corridor, motionless, seeing nothing, clearly so lost in some intense thought that she sees nothing at all around her. She does not move or even notice as the pair slows to a stop in front of her. "Tia?" Jennifer tries. The golden woman focuses on them, startled.

"Oh! Anston, I did see you not."

"Obviously." Travis says. "What's wrong?"

"Confused I am." She answers, distantly. But then she recovers, focusing on Travis. "Ensign Mayweather, how in calisthenics can one sex have?"

"With a lot of practice." He says the first thing that comes to his mind. Jennifer hits his arm with the back of her hand.

"Why?" She asks Tia.

"Pregnant Elizabeth Cutler is."

"From calisthenics?"

Jennifer whacks him in his chest, and then addresses Tia more directly, firmly ignoring the man. "Liz is pregnant?"

"Daai."

"Liz and Jim?"

"Must have been some workout." Travis quips.

"Will you shut _up_?" Jennifer demands; then more pointedly ignores him. "When did this happen?"

"I a few weeks ago think, after came aboard Mother McCabe. I Liz spoke to, celebration I would plan."

"Celebration?" Travis asks.

"Daai!" Tia says excitedly, getting back into the spirit. "On Aura, big celebration this cause would! Nothing to us important more is. Celebrations can for _days_ last!"

"Days? Over a _pregnancy_?" Both women look at him with identical expressions that clearly say that he does not get it; something that in all fairness he cannot argue with them about, even though they then more pointedly ignore him. At least Jennifer does.

"Dang right! Count me in." She takes Tia's arm, steering her away. "Come on, we've a lot of planning to do."

"Hey! What about the movie?"

"Oh." Jennifer pauses, surprised to have forgotten. But then she comes to a decision. "Have fun. This is women's work." They stride down the corridor, leaving a very bemused Travis behind. He stares after them until they turn a corner, and then shakes his head, wondering if he should be annoyed, outraged or happy for his friend.

"How do you like that?" He asks the empty corridor. "She's pregnant and so I get stood up."

"Who's pregnant?" A voice from behind him asks. He turns, finding Watkins from Engineering a few feet away.

"Ensign Cutler."

"No kidding?"


	5. Confession

Later that evening, after having spent a pleasurable two hours in the Mess Hall during the viewing of the movie 'Independence Day'; which Malcolm Reed particularly enjoyed for the number of things that were blown up, Reverend Patricia McCabe is just about to enter her portside quarters when she sees Ensign Elizabeth Cutler approaching from the opposite direction, waving to get her attention. She stops just outside her closed door, and allows the younger woman to catch up. "Mother McCabe, I--er, could I ask a favor?"

"Of course, child."

"Would...um, I'm embarrassed to ask." She looks up at the taller woman who wears, as she normally does in 'public', her clerical garb consisting of black trousers and back button royal blue shirt, the high collar of which is an inch high band of stiff white. From a short blue cloth collar which matches the shirt is suspended a red Roman overlaying a white Maltese, and itself overlaid by a black and gold Temple cross upon which was another gold cross, all framed in gold, a combination of those of several 'Faiths'. "Would..." She hesitates and looks about carefully, but they are alone in the corridor. Still, Liz lowers her voice further. "Would you hear my Confession?"

"Of course, child." She says again, empathizing with the woman's caution, even though it is hardly the shameful matter the other's manner seems to make it.

McCabe's Pastoral office is on the opposite side of the saucer, but as it is a converted crew quarters with the bed removed and replaced by extra chairs, it has little to recommend it over her own quarters. She doubts the younger woman, uncomfortable as she already is, is up to the walk. Instead, she touches the button controlling her own door, indicating to Cutler that she should enter first.

When the door closes behind them, Cutler takes a moment to glance about, trying to calm her nerves. She has never been here; the last time she had visited McCabe was in the woman's starboard side office, near the beginning of the 'Tigat Affair'. It was strange to think of the Security Guard sitting alone in the brig, awaiting transfer to Starbase 2 at Alpha Centauri to face her Court Martial...but this was getting her nowhere, dwelling on such useless thoughts, when she should be focusing on the here-and-now.

* * *

There is little to distinguish these quarters from Liz's own, save that they are something of a starboard mirror image of her own portside rooms. There are a few personal items, but Liz tries not to linger on these. The woman has been aboard barely a month, and had come with very few personal possessions of any kind. There is little of the woman imprinted on this room yet, more of the Priest on the other.

McCabe, giving the Biologist a few moments to prepare herself, steps over to her clothes closet set into the bulkhead and opens it. There is little inside; six pair of 'uniforms' identical to the one she wears are on the left side, the right side given over to her few dresses. Hanging from a rack on the left metal door are ten very long cloths which, folded in half, hang almost to the floor. In order, they are arranged red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet. There is a short space before a set of three; purple, white and black. Otherwise, all are identical, embroidered a foot from the ends, and then on the folded middle, with a gold crown within which is set a slanted red cross.

She draws the purple one from the rack, kisses the middle and then drapes it over her shoulders, lifting her chestnut hair over it to settle it in place so it hangs down the front of her body. "How do you know which one to use?" Cutler asks.

"Hmm? Oh, by the Season. The Liturgical Season, that is; or for use on special Feast Days; or for the specific purpose for which it is intended. In this case, Penitence, we use purple." She closes the closet. "Would you like to sit down?" She offers, indicating the chair at her desk.

"I don't know." Liz admits, uncertain and uncomfortable. Somehow, though the woman is not so much taller than she is, at the moment she feels very, very small. "Aren't I supposed to kneel, or something?"

McCabe smiles. "If you like. I've always found confession to be hard enough in itself." She brings the chair by the head of her bunk closer to the one at her desk so they may sit reasonably close. Cutler sits down only after McCabe does. The Priest can see the other woman is still very uncomfortable, and does not press her.

"I don't really remember what to say." Liz confesses apologetically. "I guess I'm kind of a 'lapsed Catholic'. I think it's something like 'bless me, Fa--um, Mother, for I have sinned. My last confession was..." she shrugs helplessly, "...sixteen years ago?" McCabe reaches out, taking her hand.

"Child, don't worry about the form. Just say what's on your mind."

Liz takes a deep breath, holds it a moment; lets it out completely, trying to drain some of the tension from her body. She takes another deep breath and declares: "I don't know what to do."

* * *

Mother McCabe waits a few moments, then a few moments longer. Finally: "That's it?"

Liz shrugs. "That's the gist of it."

"That was barely worth putting the stole on for."

Liz laughs, grateful for the chance to do so. "But that's my problem. Everyone seems to know what's best for me, but I _don't_. I literally do not know what to _do_!"

"Child, that's no sin. That's being human."

* * *

Liz looks at her curiously. "You keep calling me 'child'."

"Does it bother you? I call everyone 'child'. Something about the job; I'm supposed to be Mother to all of you. I'd even call the Captain 'child', or Commander T'Pol, and I have it on reliable word that she's at least a generation older than I am."

"How old are you?" The words are out of her mouth before Liz can bite them back, but the woman seems to show no offense.

"Old enough to know better."

Liz laughs again, and this time it feels a lot better.

"I'm as old as Malcolm Reed, if that's an answer." Liz knows the two have a very long history together, for decades before Reed even came to Enterprise.

"Do you call Lt. Reed 'child'?"

"I call Malcolm a lot of things."

* * *

Liz finds that, this time, the laughter carries a lot of the tension away with it. "Thank you. I haven't laughed in days."

"Why is that?"

"Lately I haven't had much to laugh about."

"Do you want to tell me why?" She believes she knows the answer already, but wants to hear it in Liz's own words.

Liz hesitates, still very uncomfortable. She does not know if she really wants to reveal the cause of her distress, but forces herself to remember that she had come to the woman, not the other way around. "I had thought that the worst thing that could ever happen to me was when those pictures surfaced, and everybody saw...well...I thought that what Mary Tigat had done to us was the worst thing that would ever happen in my life. But it wasn't." She looks down, unable to meet the Priest's eyes, barely able to continue. She stares at her hands, clenching them so tightly it hurts, but the pain only serves to distract her, not to strengthen or focus her.

"I found out the other day that..." It is still so hard to say, and she stares at her hands, wringing them tightly upon her lap, but she swallows heavily and forces herself. "That I'm pregnant."

* * *

She braces herself for the condemnation, but is surprised when it does not come. She is so surprised she looks up, fearing but seeking this expected condemnation, even more surprised not to find it. Neither, in fact, is there any indication of surprise in the other woman's eyes.

"The thought doesn't seem to make you happy." Patricia says softly.

"It..." She considers, even at this late point, lying. But she is not here to lie. She shakes her head. "It doesn't. I mean, it _should_ , and I'm probably a _horrible_ person for feeling like this, but it caught me off guard. I never _expected_ to _get_ pregnant!" Once the word was out, she was surprised how hard it was to stop talking.

"I mean, I'm in a relationship, and I was seeing Phlox for...for...well, I _forgot_! I lost track of the days, and I didn't even expect to do anything, but one thing led to another and...well, it was the day after you came aboard. I...I just...forgot." Her voice trails off, overcome by misery. But she can not stop.

"And everyone is so thrilled. All my friends say I should have the baby, my best friend won't even _hear_ anything else, and Jim even wants it; at least he says he does, now...But I--I just don't _know_. I don't know what to _do_. If I do nothing, I'll have this baby in just a bit under eight months, but...I don't _know_!"

* * *

She feels tears about to break through her control, and shuts herself up lest they come. Patricia waits, allowing her to fill the silence when she is ready. "We've already named it. 'Michael'. I already know it's going to be a boy. One of the 'advantages' of being in Life Sciences. But I think the naming of it--of him, is the _worst_ thing I could have done. It made him...him. He's not just an embryo anymore. He's my _son_!"

"You're considering aborting?" Patricia phrases the question, and her tone, very carefully. For a long moment Liz cannot answer, finally she can no longer look at the woman, but looks down again at her hands clutched on her lap, nodding miserably.

"I--I don't _know_ anymore. It's my body, I _should_ have a say. But it's not just my decision anymore. But it is. I shouldn't _be_ pregnant. I'm not even married. I mean, I never even _thought_ of marriage. Not seriously I mean. I mean, I thought of it; I really, really like--I mean 'love' him. I _think_. But spend our lives together? Raise a son, be a family? I don't know! I'm scared to _death_ over it all.

"I don't know what to _do_. And I know that all I have to do is nothing, and everything will happen without my say so!"

She looks up at McCabe imploringly. "What should I do?"

* * *

Patricia McCabe is silent for a long moment. "It seems to me," she says finally, "that you have enough people telling you what you should do. I dare say that every one of your friends, and a fair number of acquaintances, have expressed their opinions already."

"Darn right!"

"My thought is this: You and Jim Cein began this without any input from anyone else. No one else was there. So it seems to me that the same conditions apply. _You two_ have to make the decision.

"I can offer only this: Your true friends will support whatever decision the two of you make. Those that do not...well, you'll know where they stand."

For a long moment Liz is silent, weighing this grim reality. She cannot deny the truth, but it is still painful. Which of her friends would...?

"Thank you." She stands up, unable to last any longer, and is about to leave when she stops, still facing the door. Patricia does not push her, but just waits. Finally, she turns. "Mother McCabe..." She sighs feelingly. "God, that just sounds so formal!"

"Call me 'Mom'." McCabe offers with a small smile.

" _Mom_?" She asks, surprised.

"At least in here."

Liz thinks about it. "My own Mom's a long way away. Yes, I think I'd like that, please."

"'Mom' it is. Now, child, what's your question?"

"If I--if we--should decide that...Where will _you_ stand on it?"

* * *

Patricia McCabe knows this is her pivotal question, the one that will determine how Liz will trust her new Chaplain and friend, now and in the future. "I won't try to talk you out of a decision you two mutually arrive at. If _asked_ , I'll give any advice I am capable of giving before the decision is made. But after it is made, my say is finished. But I am not going to turn my back on either of you. On any of the three of you. I will advise you as best I can, but I'm not going to add my influence to an already muddy situation.

"But if you do decide you cannot carry this child, I will ask you to come back and talk to me before you take any action. That's a decision that is going to have some very real consequences for you--especially since you are already thinking of him as your son. You're going to need someone to support you no matter _which_ decision you make, and I'd like to be here to give you that support."

Liz so badly wants to take her new friend up on her offer, but is still apprehensive. After all, is McCabe really able to offer all she does, or is there a limit?

"But isn't the Church's doctrine one of preserving life?" She tries to keep the suspicious tone out of her words, but fears she is unable to do so. McCabe, however, does not appear to have noticed any.

"The Church's doctrine is complex; and complicated by the question of _whose_ life." She tells the younger woman. "I can't give you any rule in that matter. There used to be hard and fast rules, but rules are for math, not humans."

* * *

Patricia stands up, removing from her shoulders the purple stole, opening the closet door and returning it to its place on the bar, closing the door and turning back, having needed those seconds to frame her answer.

"In past millennia, Religion dictated everything; and you obeyed or else. Things are vastly different now. We try to guide people into living the kind of lives that God would wish us to lead, but the older I get the less simple that simple sentence becomes. And since I've gotten out into space, and especially on board _this_ ship, it's grown more complex by the moment.

"But let me ask you a question. Are you abdicating the right to decide and giving the decision to me?"

"No."

"Then in the final count, I cannot _tell_ you what to do, nor enforce any 'ruling' I might make. I am not here to rule anyone in matters of the Spirit, to make decisions of Faith or duty nor to enforce Doctrine. My mandate here is to Guide," she smiles, "and any time you want to trade your tightrope for mine I'll give it to you in a flash."

"No thanks." Liz says with a grin in answer to hers. "My life is complicated enough already, thank you."

"Darn."


	6. Pushing

Elizabeth Cutler keys the door to Life Sciences open. It is twenty three thirty hours, almost the end of Beta shift, but she cannot rest. Her mind crowded with tensions and concerns, she decides to get a few days head start on the Inventory of their supplies. Normally it is not a hard job, and could easily be finished in half a shift, but it is either that or sit in her quarters moping.

As she steps into the room, motion and heat sensors automatically turn on the lights, revealing the unoccupied laboratory. This is one of the stations normally used during only one shift, all members of Life Sciences being on Alpha's oh-eight-hundred to sixteen-hundred schedule. Only when the need is pressing, such as during and after a planetfall, are the shifts extended as needed. Presently there is no excess work to be done. Liz crosses the laboratory to the storage room in the rear, opening the door and stepping in.

Picking up a PADD, she downloads from the computer the latest inventory record, and sets about matching what is expected to be present with what actually is.

* * *

Allowing herself to become engrossed in the work, giving away her attentions and concerns to the strictly ordinary duty inside the smaller supply room in the rear of the laboratory, it is some time before a soft voice impinges on her consciousness. Pausing, she listens, mildly surprised to hear the sound coming from the outer room. It has quite some time ago crossed the 'zero hour', so she is surprised to hear voices of any kind. She realizes a moment later that it is the computer's synthesized voice, but it is not speaking in English.

Peeking out the door, she is even more surprised to find Tia Anlor working at her station. The young Auran woman really ought to be asleep, Liz thinks, it being well after 0100, until she realizes the same applies to her.

Tia is seated at her desk with her back to Liz, engrossed in her work. Curious, Liz steps out, crossing the room silently.

When she is standing directly behind the younger woman, she can see what is on the screen which has her friend so absorbed.

Though the Auran has learned to understand and speak English, she cannot read it fluently yet, particularly the highly technical material implicit in Biological Research, so this is the one room in which she makes use of the Universal Translator. She has set it to read off the text of the material presently on the screen.

It doesn't take Liz more than a moment to realize that the text she can see is an analysis of the human genome. Tia then brings up, as Liz watches silently; information that had to have come from Phlox's multiple in-depth analysis of her own physiology. As Tia works, Liz reads the work over her shoulder. Tia is so engrossed she is leaning in close, examining some aspect in detail rather than enlarging it and losing the entire surrounding image. She is still completely unaware of her friend behind her. Tia's readouts shift to the left side of the screen. On the right side of the screen a graphical image appears labeled 'Tucker, Charles III, Cmdr.'

"What are you doing?"

* * *

Tia shrieks, turning so quickly she slips off the stool and would have fallen to the floor had Liz not grabbed her. " _Liz_ \--I did not know you were here!" Her voice is over an octave higher than usual, and on her face is a look of utter panic.

It is so different in here with the UT turned on; the Auran words being translated into fluent English. Tia turns, franticly slapping at the controls on the computer, blanking the monitor and silencing the voice.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I just wanted to know what you were doing."

Tia turns back, her face filled with absolute terror. "I--I--I--Research!" She stammers, guiltily. "I am doing Research! I am sorry! I am hurting nothing!"

"No, you're not hurting anything. I was just..." Something in the woman's embarrassed response makes it clear. Suddenly she realizes that she understands everything. "You're comparing Commander Tucker's human and your Auran genomes." Tia says nothing, but shakes her head franticly, her expression clearly saying 'Don't figure it out, please!'

But Liz ignores it. "You said earlier that you _cannot become pregnant_ \--but that's not entirely true. Is it?"

Tia reaches out, clutching Liz's hands in a desperate grip. "Please! _Please_ do not tell anyone! _Please_!" Her eyes glisten with unshed tears as she begs her friend. " _Please_ do not _tell_!"

* * *

"All right, honey, just calm down. There's no need to get worked up. I'll keep your secret--because I've just worked out what it is."

"How? _How could you_ _know_?" Tia gasped, still terrified, but the fear giving way slightly under her astonishment.

Liz laughs softly. "Honey, I always say I'll play poker with you any day of the week. You are so innocent that sometimes you amaze me. You said you 'can not get pregnant', but what you _really_ mean is that, at this point, you can't get pregnant by the one person in the universe that you give a _damn_ about getting pregnant by!" Tia looks away shamefully, unable to meet her eyes. "In fact, I'm pretty sure I can guess what brought this all on."

Tia does not look at her, but there is no need. She nods, dejectedly. "Auran and human physiology, they are so different. So _different_. It may be impossible. And it is so perverted. So sick--disgusting!"

"To Aurans? That you are thinking about having a child with Trip Tucker?"

She nods, blushing furiously, unable to meet her friends eyes, humiliated at having been caught giving in to such disgraceful thoughts. "It is wrong. _Disgusting_! I am so _ashamed_ for even thinking of it!"

* * *

Liz smiles, reaching out and turning Tia back to look at her. The woman's face is a bright gold, and Liz ignores her 'lightning-shot' eyes. Tia is so overwrought she has forgotten to be embarrassed or to cover up the 'shameful' sight. "There's nothing to be _ashamed_ of." She assures her. "I think it's wonderful." Tia's expression turns to astonished delight. She had been giving in so much to what her people's response would be that she had been denying her own self.

"You're a _long_ way from a solution, but I'll be glad to help." If possible, Tia's response is even brighter. "You're going to need help in this anyhow. Between you, me and Phlox, I'm sure we'll eventually find a solution."

"Do you think you can?" She asks in desperate hope. The solution had seemed so far from her, and now...

"I know we'll try." Liz assures her, but before Tia can charge off on an enthusiastic rush, she says firmly: "But _only_ on one _condition_!" She makes certain she has broken through the younger woman's ecstatic burst and has her full attention.

"I want you to talk to Commander Tucker first. Get his side. Be very _certain_ you both want this. I know you are fertile only three days a year, one day every eighteen of our weeks, which is why you lock yourself away after what happened on Elanis IV, but believe me; an unexpected pregnancy is _no_ joy!"

For a moment the golden woman does not answer, but then bows her head. Liz decides that this is as much as she is going to get at 0120 hours.

"Now come on." She says, reaching to turn on the monitor. "Let's see how far you've gotten."

* * *

"Personal Log, continuing from last evening. It's 0519 and I cannot sleep." Liz Cutler sits up on her bed, her knees up, blanket pulled over her legs and onto her lap, hugging it. She is still in her night clothes, silken shorts and spaghetti strapped top like most women aboard wear. She wonders when the last time was when she'd started recording a log as soon as she woke up, this time after barely two hours! She decides the answer was 'never'; not until today.

"My life is _Hell_! Two days ago my biggest problem was getting a report on mitosis shifts on specimens from Alpha Kirini logged on time. Now I'm pregnant--and I don't _want_ to be. And I seem to have inspired Earth's first, or is it the second, interspecies conception, if you count Commander Tucker and Ah'Len--if anyone can believe that! Last night I barely did, now I feel lost and worse.

"I'm so confused. Part of the time I want this baby. Part of the time I can't stop thinking about how _great_ it would be! Part of the time it scares me out of my _mind_ , so much so that I keep thinking of aborting it. I'm the only one thinking about that; and I feel like a _monster_ for doing so.

"Last night--this morning--I was doing inventory, and I suddenly realized we have everything in the store room I need to mix triaxamine. Fifteen cc's and they could never get me to Sick Bay fast enough to prevent miscarriage. That _really_ made me feel like a monster!

"Then I talked to Tia Anlor, and she is doing everything she can to find some way of _getting_ pregnant. It's a billion to one shot, but I can't tell her that. Ever since we talked and she started thinking about refanli--their word for it--she got to thinking..." She threw the blanket off her, jumping to her feet, unable to stay still.

"Oh, Damn It! _Why'd_ this have to _happen_? Last night I was going to mix triaxamine, then I wanted the baby, then before I went to bed I panicked and changed my damn mind, now this morning I want it again!

"And I've done the worst possible thing I could do. I've _named_ him."

* * *

Two hours later, in the Mess Hall, Hoshi has just sat down at a round table large enough for six when Trip Tucker, Malcolm Reed and Mother McCabe approach. "Good morning." Trip says. "Are these seats taken?"

"Not at all!" She says, grateful for the company. She usually eats with Tia and Liz, but this morning Tia is not on duty and Liz is so stressed out she probably would not be much company. Hoshi suspects she would be having breakfast in her quarters.

As the three sit down, Trip on her left, followed by Malcolm and Mother McCabe to either side, left and right of her, there is a moment of silence. She turns to Patricia, seated opposite her, the two men on her left. "So, how are you settling in?" It has been barely a month since the woman has joined the crew, and Hoshi remembers it had taken her considerably longer to get her 'space legs'.

"Just fine." Patricia says; her eyes flicking to Malcolm and then giving Hoshi a small smile that communicates more to the woman than either man picks up on. Hoshi grins in return at the unspoken message.

Before either man can 'protest', they are joined by Tia Anlor, arriving at one of the two empty seats to Hoshi's right. The young golden woman typically does not wear a uniform, not being a member of Starfleet. This morning she is wearing a blue dress that Hoshi notes is considerably shorter than _she_ would have worn, and she is known for wearing barely modest off duty attire indeed. She glances at Malcolm seated next to Trip and therefore out of the Engineer's view as he looks at Tia opposite him. Hoshi sees that the Armory Officer has definitely noticed Tia's abbreviated outfit in quite unnecessary addition to her stunning physique, and has very quickly covered up that notice, very much aware of being in Patricia's and Trip's presence. Neither of his friends, he thinks, particularly Patricia, would appreciate his attention to the young woman if they had noticed. Hoshi tries very hard to suppress a smile.

Hoshi had not expected Tia's arrival, and when the young woman sits down opposite Trip, she sees that the golden woman is somewhat distracted. Removing a small white disk that was attached to her right earlobe, Tia sets it down on the table before her. Trip and Hoshi recognize it as the small music player that Ann Anderson had given her, onto which she had downloaded a copious volume of Earth music.

On Tia's face is a mystified expression. She looks about the table at her four friends; then focuses on Trip. "Shar-les, may I you a question ask?"

"Oh course." He assures her, surprised at her hesitancy. Normally she is not reticent about asking questions, a trait that had caused numerous uncomfortable situations in the past. He is almost glad she is being a bit more discrete, though he does not want her to be apprehensive either.

"More songs did for me Ann Anderson load down. One..." She picks up the small white disk uncertainly. "One _truly_ sense makes not."

"What is it, more rock and roll?" He recalls her fondness for the uninhibited music of Earth's mid- to late-twentieth century.

"Daai."

"And only _one_ doesn't make sense?" Malcolm cannot resist asking. "I'm impressed."

"Mosti?"

"Well, usually one's all I ever _get_!" Patricia slaps his arm, but cannot repress a grin.

"All right, I'll take a stab at it." Trip promised. "What is it?"

Tia holds the disk up between thumb and forefinger, as if showing it to him would focus her thoughts. Her tone is vague, growing more mystified as she searches for the words. "A woman...she something to do likes. Seems she others telling is, but in her rhythm I lost getting am. Asking others...if 'do you like it' is. Seems they agree, and over and over she it says, but _sense_ it makes nyasi."

"Well, what does she say she enjoys so much?" Trip asks, quite unenlightened.

"Says she..." Tia hesitates, trying to get the woman's forceful rhythm, hoping it will help make the point clear, "'push, push in the bush'."

The four humans go utterly silent.

* * *

"Well..." Trip tries to say, but the word comes out split. Swallowing, he tries again. "Well..." His eyes flicker to Malcolm, who seemed to be waiting quite expectantly for his friend to explain, and then to the two women, one of them a Priest, who regard him with quizzical expressions. "It's, um...it's..." His voice dies.

"Daai?" She can not understand his hesitancy in answering so simple a question.

"Err..." His eyes again flicker to his friends, then back to Tia. "I'll, err, I'll tell you later."

Tia sighs feelingly, slapping the table. "Kraanstat, what this 'I'll tell you later' you so often say is?" Her voice rises sharply in her frustration, carrying to surrounding tables. "I a simple _question_ ask! What 'push, push in the bush' is?"

Trip can actually feel a combination of apprehensions light his face as conversations at nearby tables stop, several eyes turning to them.

He has to admit he can understand her frustration; he thinks with a measure of guilt as he realizes how true her words are. He frequently used this way of avoiding personal, or delicate, questions in public. He'd spoken to her about the subject; only to have it pointed out recently and very emphatically that a lot of times 'later' never came.

"All right, I'll tell you!" He says a bit too sharply, drawing his feelings back a moment later, realizing his words are carrying as well. He pauses; then continues more quietly, trying to maintain a reasonable tone. "Just...keep your voice down, will you?"

Tia leans forward, complying with his request by asking so softly they can barely hear her; "What bush pushed in is? 'Pushing in a bush' sense makes nyasi."

* * *

He has to admit he can understand her viewpoint. It is a fundamental, physiological difference between Aurans and humans, one he had learned early and then later from deeply personal experience. As such he can understand that this concept would not exist among Aurans, therefore it would make no sense to any of them. But how to...

He forcibly kills this train of thought, which is getting him nowhere. He is, however, hugely relieved that surrounding conversations have resumed as their own words no longer carry. "The bush...right." He, unfortunately, notices Reverend Patricia looking at him, and the explanation dies in his head. "The, ahh...the..." He glances away from her and his eyes meet Hoshi's. She has a knowing smile on her lips as she sits waiting. He shakes his head, trying to think of something, trying not to see either woman. "The, um, 'push'...well...that is..." He glances at Malcolm on his left. The man is smiling, clearly enjoying his discomfort. Trip glares at him, very glad for a target.

"Hey, you're so smart; _you_ take a crack at it!" He demands.

Malcolm gives him a wider grin and a look as if to say 'all right, watch how it's done'. He turns to Tia, feeling more than just a little smug.

"Tia, the 'bush' they're referring to pushing into is--." He catches a movement to his left, and sees Reverend Mother McCabe beside him lean slightly forward, an expression of deep curiosity on her face. "Is..." Hoshi, to his right beyond Trip, also leans forward slightly, in expectation of an 'education'.

He closes his eyes, focusing on shutting them out and rallying his thoughts. When he opens his eyes again all three women are watching him expectantly, waiting. Rallying, he charges ahead. "The push...I mean the _bush_ they're pushing...I mean that's being pushed into..." McCabe leans further forward, making it impossible to ignore her. "I mean..." His voice fades away.

"Yes?" Mother Patricia asks innocently, her voice fraught with sweet challenge.

Malcolm swallows so hard it hurts, tries to clear his throat and tries very hard to block both women out of his consciousness, focusing on Tia between them. "You see, human women have..." Hoshi gets even closer, and he cannot filter her out.

"Go on." She urges him.

"Yes, Malcolm, go on." Patricia also coaxes ever so sweetly. " _What_ do we have?"

Malcolm opens his mouth and absolutely nothing comes out.

* * *

"Hey, guys!" Elizabeth Cutler greets them brightly as she arrives with a tray, taking a seat between Tia and Hoshi. She notices an intense undercurrent of emotion at the table. Everyone seems extremely attentive to what Malcolm is saying; except he isn't saying anything, but simply sitting with his mouth open. As she sits down, he looks at her with an expression of deep gratitude. "What's up?" She asks him, wondering why he looks so happy to see her.

Tia turns to her. "They explain trying to, but explaining _nyasi_!" She says, clearly frustrated. "I a simple _question_ ask, but answer they do nyasi."

"Well, what is it?"

"What 'push, push in the bush' is?"

Liz smiles. "Oh, that's simple." She pats her abdomen and says very softly, to be heard just at this table. " _That's_ how I got into _this_ mess."

"Ah!' Tia exclaims loudly, everything _finally_ making sense. "The 'bush' a human female's _pubic hair_ is! And it the male's _penis_ 'pushing' into her _vagina_ that feels so good is!"

The Mess Hall goes completely, utterly silent.

While Patricia and Hoshi are confirming Tia's conclusion, Trip and Malcolm fervently wish that the bulkhead beside them would simply rupture and blow them out into space.

* * *

Rev. Patricia McCabe walks down the corridor toward her office after the most entertaining breakfast she can ever recall when she hears a call from behind her. She turns, finding Elizabeth Cutler a few feet back. "Yes, Child?" She asks. Elizabeth comes up to her.

"I--was just hoping we could talk."

"Of course." She says, resuming her journey. The women walk together in silence for several moments, at least until they reach a portion of the curving corridor where no one else is in sight. "I'm sure you've had a lot on your mind."

"Damn right!" Liz says feelingly, but then looks at the woman, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I -."

"Think nothing of it." They continue in silence for another few yards.

"I'm going _crazy_."

"I can understand that." McCabe commiserates. "This is a big change in your life. Sometimes I wonder just how I would handle it"

"Better you than me." McCabe looks at her, surprised. "Blast it, that's not what I--I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound insulting."

McCabe smiles. "I'm hardly insulted, child."

"Jim's taking this a _lot_ better than I am." Liz complains; her conversation fragmented in accord with her thoughts. "I'm going crazy, and _he's_ practicing to be a daddy!"

"Everyone handles things differently."

"How would Lt. Reed handle it, if...?" The words die in her mouth as she realizes how blatantly intrusive they are, but Patricia just smiles at her.

"He'd probably launch himself out one of his own torpedo tubes."

* * *

They reach the Pastoral Office, an unused and converted crew quarters, so distinguished now by an image of a white dove painted upon the door. Though of the Anglican Church, McCabe had decided that this would be a less segregating image to the crew of so many faiths represented on this ship. She presses the 'open' button, and the door slides aside to admit them.

"Don't you lock it when you're gone?" Liz asks; the question past her lips before she can think. Rev. McCabe looks at her in mild surprise.

"Why in the world would I do that?"

* * *

Inside the room is the answer to both sides of the question. The room itself is as Liz remembers it, essentially five chairs scattered about; two on either side of a round table which is set slightly to their right. The layout of this room is such that the majority of the room is to the right of the door, only a short portion existing to the left. Within one wall to the right is a large closet that Liz already knows contains various Vestmentary worn in the course of the Services the Priest leads, and what supplies she needs in the performance of her duties.

The only feature to distinguish this room from any other is actually almost straight in from the door, a half meter wide white padded square resting upon the floor before a large reproduction of the cross the woman wears suspended from her blue collar. This one is about one meter high, a red Roman cross behind which the eight white 'arms' of a Maltese cross are visible. On the vertex of the red cross is a squared black Temple cross upon which is a red banner with a thin gold cross slanted to the right. The quadruple Cross is fashioned in intricate detail and affixed to the bulkhead before them, illuminated by a directed spotlight from the overhead.

McCabe continues into the room, going to one of the chairs on either side of the round table, but she looks back to find Liz standing just inside the closed door. She is staring at the large cross before her. "If you would prefer..." McCabe offers, indicating the padded square, but Liz shakes her head.

"I've made up my mind." She speaks to the red, white and gold cross. It takes several more seconds before she can tear her eyes from the image and look at McCabe. Her eyes reflect the anguish she can no longer keep hidden. She tries to speak normally, but her voice is overwhelmed by sadness.

"I'm having the abortion."

Patricia McCabe finishes pulling out the chair. "Won't you sit down?" She invites softly.


	7. Surprises

The morning after, a full day after her very long and very emotional discussion with Rev. McCabe, Liz Cutler is walking alone to the Mess Hall, looking forward to breakfast when she hears a call behind her. "Hello, mommy!" She turns, momentarily annoyed at having her 'condition' announced so blatantly, but stops in mid-frown, seeing Hoshi and Jim Cein approaching.

"Hi. And would you please _not_ _do_ _that_? No one knows, and I'm trying to keep it that way until I screw up enough nerve to go see the Captain." She kisses Jim, and then gives Hoshi a dark look.

"You haven't seen him yet, Beth?" Jim asks, concerned. Implicit in his tone is his real question--'what are you waiting for?' He does not say it, however.

"I've been juggling anxieties ever since Monday. I've spoken to Mother McCabe three times already. Yesterday I was with her for most of the morning. Thank _God_ she didn't mention about us getting married!"

Hoshi notices the look on Jim's face, though he gets very quiet, and thinks she should change the subject. This is a conversation best left for privacy, and it would be too obvious to excuse herself. "I wouldn't mention the words 'bridal shower' to Tia, if I were you."

"Oh, God, No!" Liz exclaims as they resume walking. "She came to me the evening before last, all ultra-hyper--as if that's anything new--and went on about throwing me a huge bash. Apparently on Aura when a woman gets pregnant it's a tremendous thing."

"Well, her heart's in the right place; at least figuratively." Hoshi admits, remembering that in Auran physiology the six-chambered heart is about ten centimeters lower than in a human's chest. "And remember, on Aura it would be. A woman's only fertile one day every eighteen of our weeks, and if she doesn't conceive, it means the dasreer."

Liz's expression darkens as she remembers that horrible day when she and Hoshi had learned first hand about that black aspect of Auran physiology. And she felt a little guilty when she realized at least two more had to have passed since. She had forecast that this most recent one, the first one since her Luuru, would be worse than any before, and she had been correct. She had broken down from her 'stubborn' insistence about enduring the agony, as women of her race had come to endure, and had sought Phlox's aid. He had sedated her until the worst of the pain was over.

Coupled with Tia's admission that she would never be able to escape from that cyclical fate even if she could conceive, Liz could understand her motivation. It would be only during her actual pregnancy, if any, that she could be free of it. Once completed, she would again be subject to this curse.

"What's a 'dasreer'?" Jim asks. He had never heard the term.

Liz looks up at him, her expression grim. "A reason to be desperate."

Something in her ominous tone makes him not want to find out.

* * *

"I guess," she says, continuing to Hoshi, "that getting away from that, even for a while, would be a major cause for celebration."

"That's not it at all. It's because the birth rate on Aura is low. Really low."

"What do you mean?" Liz asks. She isn't asking about the question itself, but the underlying one.

"Aurans are fertile only one day every eighteen weeks, as you know. To keep the species going, evolution has created this powerful pheromone. Remember the 'roses'?" Liz did, all too well. On Elanis IV, in the confined space of a shuttlepod, the unexpected onset of that fertility had more of an effect on Travis Mayweather than what should have happened.

Properly, it should have had _no_ effect upon him at all, as he is not Auran. But the confined space of the pod concentrated the effect to the point that Travis and Liz herself were affected by it. That any human could be affected was unexpected, and every time since, when that phase of her life cycle came about again, Tia had locked herself away securely in her quarters.

"The effect of the minklasii is powerful, and an unbonded woman will often sequester herself as Tia does, even knowing that the dasreer will be the result."

"That rots."

"But the alternative is that any male nearby--."

"Don't say anything more. I get it. And that _really_ rots!"

"Then I won't even go into how the Silurians screwed things up by interfering when they took over."

"Please don't."

"So, you can see where it would be the biggest thing ever if someone did get pregnant."

"I guess so." She sighs. "But I'm glad I got through to her that things are different with us. We don't make that big a deal of it."

"Speak for yourself." Jim says.

"Oh, it's not that, honey. It's just...well...I'm just..." She stops short, making them stop and turn a moment later to face her. "I'm just getting used to it myself. I didn't want anyone to know until I'm ready to tell them. Okay?"

"Okay." They resume walking.

"The first thing I want to do is to find out where I stand. I want to stay on Enterprise, but I don't even know if I can do that. It's not up to me. I'm sure Starfleet is going to put me through a farging _wringer_ over this. But I won't know where I stand until I see the Captain. I can't go any further until I speak to him about it."

"Speak to me about what?"

* * *

She turns, startled at the sound of his voice at her left. They had had the cosmic misfortune to be passing the intersection of two corridors just as he had come down the other. "Captain!" She tries to pull herself together. "You startled me."

"Sorry." He says mildly. "I wouldn't want to do anything to upset you in your condition."

She freezes; then looks up at him guiltily. "You...how did you know?"

He gives her a wry smile. "Ensign, this ship can do warp 5 for a time, but you know scuttlebutt maintains warp 9 with no trouble at all."

" _Damn_!"

Archer falls into step with them. They are just a few dozen meters from the Mess Hall, and continue in a slow walk. "I did want to congratulate you, however. Both of you."

"Thank you, sir." Each says in turn.

"Unfortunately, something else has come to my attention I have a bit of a problem with."

Liz's pleasure turns to apprehension, her smile disintegrating. "Sir?"

"Yes. Something about a four-day Festival?"

She stops, burying her face in her hands. "Oh, NO!" She cries. "She _didn't_!" She looks up at the tall man. "Captain, I _swear_ to you, this is not...I told her ' _no'_. I realize Aura has its customs, and sometimes she's a bit too enthusiastic...all right, _most_ times she's a bit too enthusiastic; but I definitely told her 'No'."

"So did I." He tells her, trying to balance firmness with understanding. "I have no problem with you and your friends getting together for a celebration--this is certainly worth it, but a four day ship-wide bash is just out of the question."

"Yes, sir. I'm really sorry, sir. I'll talk to her--again." She tries to keep her temper under control as they walk the last few meters to the Mess, but it is hard. "It's bad enough she told people without my permission. I wanted it kept quiet, at least until I was ready. The _last_ thing I wanted is for people to know and make a big deal out of this. It is _not_ a big _deal_ ; and the last thing I want is to walk into a room and have a dozen people holler 'surprise'!" She pushes the button to open the door.

"SURPRISE!" The entire ship yells.

* * *

Liz stands like a statue in the doorway, staring in a confusing welter of thrilled horror at the crowd that has to number almost seventy strong, in a room decked out with party ribbons, balloons and assorted decorations. She is barely aware of Hoshi throwing her arms about her and kissing her cheek, then Jim embracing her a bit more sedately (in public view) and kissing her as well.

She finally manages to tear her eyes away from the cheering throng awaiting her within and look up at the Captain. His stern expression has vanished into a 'party face'.

"I said four days were out of the question." He tells her, putting his arm about her shoulders and guiding (helping) her into the room. She can barely move on her own as he brings her into the mad throng. "I have no problem with a couple of hours."

* * *

The party instantly takes on a life of its own. Ann Anderson has selected a collection of party music mostly from the latter half of the 20th Century, which she often maintains is unequaled for sheer enthusiasm and exuberance. 'Celebration' sets the tone, which announces to everyone that there is a party going on that would be a celebration to last throughout the year--Liz feels like fainting at the concept--and urges everyone to come out on the dance floor to celebrate the good times to come. Other similar pieces follow, and occasionally Ann herself takes the single microphone set upon a small square platform in the corner, adding her voice to the melee.

It seems that everyone who can fit into the room is there, and Liz is so dizzy with the thrill of so many friends coming out to celebrate her 'condition' that she finds she is actually forgetting to be anxious over it.

"Congratulations." A familiar voice from behind her calls out. Liz turns, seeing who has greeted her.

"Andrea! You're up!" She exclaims, throwing her arms about the blonde woman, though with a measure of care despite her enthusiasm.

"Just got discharged this morning--right on time. I wouldn't have wanted to miss this." Andrea Carstairs does not allow anything to dampen her enthusiasm, even though she is still careful in her movements, even while pulling her friend into an even more expansive hug.

"It wouldn't be the same without you!"

Even as she says it, Liz knows how encompassing her words are. The crew had suffered through a long time of heartache; of attacks from both without and within; and if this celebration is to be a signal that the times of hardship are ending, she is very glad of it!

"Congratulations, Child." She hears a voice behind her and turns, hugging Patricia McCabe happily.

She holds the taller woman close enough to whisper privately over the music; "I've decided," she 'announced', "completely and finally. No going back."

"And?" Patricia asks; her voice equally low. She realizes she is holding her breath in anticipation.

"I hope you have a section in your book for Baptism."

Patricia smiles happily. "I've already marked the page." She kisses Liz on her cheek.

* * *

It is a good hour of talking with Captain Archer and Lt. John Abrams, head of Life Sciences and Hoshi and Tia and Trip and Malcolm and Patricia and T'Pol and Seamus and Cynthia and Dina and Tom and Phlox and Travis and Jennifer and Harry and Mary and Jim and Margaret and Sam and Sarah and...She quickly loses track in the crush of good friends when she feels a tug on her arm. Ann Anderson is almost dragging her, despite her efforts to resist, up to the improvised platform and pushing a microphone into her hand. The music drops to a barely audible point as Ann steps off and everyone is looking at her expectantly.

She stares back at them, unable to stop doing her best 'deer-in-the-headlights' imitation until she catches Ann's motion, and remembers to raise the microphone. "I--ah." She stops, disconcerted at her amplified voice. The damn thing _would_ be on.

"I...just want to thank everyone." She says, her voice wavering. "I don't know what to say. I've been here an hour, and I still can't believe it. Thank you, Captain, for letting us have this. Tia, the instigator of this pod wreck--I'll get you for this!" Laughter from her many friends. "Hoshi, Mary, Dina, Andrea; all my friends--ah." Her voice breaks. "I'm gonna _cry_ , you know. Ann, come back and take this damn thing before I really embarrass myself!"

Ann Anderson takes the mike as Liz hurries off the platform to applause she could have done without, going to Jim who hugs her as she tries to stop trembling, and the music picks up into another exuberant dance number that distracts most of the people in the room. In due course, Liz finds a drink pressed into her hands and herself surrounded by Hoshi, Tia, Cathy, Melinda, Jennifer, Dina and several other friends by the improvised 'bar' when the music again dims. Most of those in the room turn expectantly toward the platform in the corner, but even before Liz can turn completely, she hears a familiar amplified voice.

"Thank you, Ann." Jim Cein says; then addresses the packed room. "I'd also like to thank everyone for coming. You're all crazy, you realize that." Scattered laughter. "I understand there's some tradition that only women speak at these things, or am I wrong? Anyway, I have only one question."

"What's that?" Malcolm calls accommodatingly.

"Beth?" Everyone in the room looks at her. "Will you marry me?"

* * *

Liz is barely fortunate that the glass in her hand is empty, because it falls to the floor with a sharp crash. She is absolutely stunned. She is so completely astonished she cannot move, and when Hoshi enthusiastically throws her arms around her and hugs her she squeezes the answer out of her, but it is too quiet a breath for anyone but the Linguist to hear.

Hoshi lets her go and Liz has to be turned by her friends, and she walks like an automaton up to the 'dais', more deeply shocked than when she'd discovered her pregnancy. She reaches out to Jim and they hug, but as she presses her head to his chest she keeps her eyes closed, unable to speak.

The room erupts in applause at that moment, everyone joining in the moment except Hoshi Sato, who stands by the bar staring at her friend. Melinda Johnston, standing next to her, nudges her and she starts to clap as well, but there is no spirit in it.

* * *

Captain Archer, an eye on the chronometer--Alpha shift is already over an hour late--decides there is no better moment to draw the morning to a close. At an arranged signal, Ann Anderson retrieves the microphone from Jim Cein's hand as he holds Liz close and begins the 'Last Dance'.

It is a classic 'last song', one that starts slowly, announcing that this is the last dance, the last chance for love and the need to have one's love beside her. It is enough to get some of the couples out on the floor; Jim and Liz, Trip and Tia, Malcolm and Patricia, Hoshi and Shamus O'Cathain, Travis and Jennifer Farber and many others.

Jonathan Archer, standing by the sidelines, astonishes T'Pol by extending his hand to her. She does not know what to say, but after several seconds she allows herself to be very reluctantly drawn out onto the floor. Most other couples hold one another close as the romantic ballad progresses, but those who know the song are ready when, about a minute and a half later, it breaks into an ebullient rock beat that cannot be danced to except separately and with extreme enthusiasm!

Tia and T'Pol, not being human, are caught off guard by the sudden shift but Tia, with her months of experience with Trip and Earth's music, is able to get into the rock beat very quickly, leaving T'Pol the only one motionless in a room of gyrating humans and associate aliens.

Archer, having forgotten the song, feels quite sorry for his uncomfortable First Officer and the embarrassing situation he'd drawn her into until, about thirty seconds into the dance, T'Pol starts to move as her shipmates do, and his mouth drops as the Vulcan starts to dance with an enthusiasm the others can only approach.

He is so astounded watching her that he misses several steps of his own, and by this point every person in the room is gyrating to the energetic rhythm. Archer swears to remember every instant of this dance. It is a moment he knows he will never see again as Captain of this or of any other ship.

Epilogue

Party snacks and non-alcoholic drinks are not the best way to begin a shift, but no one is heard complaining, not even the Chef, who had made sure that the food that was consumed was nutritious enough that it would get everyone through until lunch. Clean-up of the Mess Hall is not an overwhelming chore, and in due time Alpha shift assumes their considerably delayed stations. At least, Archer reflects, there would be little morning fatigue among the crew. Elation and exhaustion, yes; but not fatigue.

The last ones in the Mess Hall are, in fact, Hoshi and Liz, the latter of whom had insisted on being part of the clean-up detail. Actually, Liz is reluctant for it to end, and had spent the last part of the 'pod wreck' with her closest friends. But when it is time to leave the large room, Hoshi still hangs back. "You okay?" She asks her friend.

" _Okay_?" Liz exclaims. "My friends just threw me the biggest party of my _life_ and you ask if I'm 'okay'?"

Hoshi glances at the door. She does not know how long they will have for privacy. "I heard your answer to Jim's question."

Liz's grin vanishes and she crumples the napkin she is holding. "You know, your hearing is worse than a fragging Vulcan's!"

"It wasn't hard; you whispered it right into my ear."

"You _squeezed_ it out of me!" She turns away, infuriated. " _Damn_ him! How could he _do_ that? I didn't see that coming at all!" She turns on her friend. "Did you _know_ he was going to do that?"

"Well, no, but every time you mentioned marriage he sort of got this look in his eyes, so yes; I guess you could say I saw it coming. But I didn't expect him to do it then either."

Liz clenches her fists, stalking away, not trusting her voice.

"Did you tell him?"

"Are you _kidding_? In front of everybody? Create _another_ scene? Enough of my private life is going public, even without what that damned Mary Tigat did just last week!" She turns back, her face red. "Damn it, _damn it_ , _damn it_! _Why_ couldn't he ask me in private? Over dinner? _Something_?"

"I don't know. I guess he--."

"Got caught up in the moment, yeah; I got that too." She falls dejectedly into a chair. "Damn it, how did my life get so _fragged up_ in just _three days_?"

Hoshi shakes her head sympathetically. "I don't know."

"I don't want to hurt him. I _love_ him. But I don't want to _marry_ him!"

"Then what are you going to do?"

She shrugs. "I asked 'Mom' that same question." She sits quietly for a few moments, then gets up and strides purposefully for the door.

"Where are you going?" Hoshi asks as Liz presses the button next to the door, letting herself out.

"To put the answer into effect. Jim and I have a _hell_ of a lot to talk about!"


End file.
